


dreams in which i'm dying

by timelessidyll



Series: see the pain in their eyes [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Mentions of Blood, it's so short jkdsfhsjk sorry, kind of angel au??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14907965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelessidyll/pseuds/timelessidyll
Summary: Chittaphon never expected it to hurt this much.





	dreams in which i'm dying

**Author's Note:**

> another random idea that's probably never getting a story

Everyone had told him, warned him, that earning your wings was painful. It was so painful that it made you regret choosing this path, it made you think twice about your decision to become a Guardian, it made you think that dying a second death would be much more preferable. Oh, Chittaphon wished he had listened to them. Wished he had heeded that warning, wished he had continued to live his noncommittal afterlife. But he had been itching, craving for something more, something new.

Gaining his wings was so painful that Chittaphon screamed when the first bone started to grow. There was a blinding pain right below his shoulder blades, so much so that, slowly, the nerves in that area became immune. Instead, it spread throughout his body, reaching his chest, arm, legs, head, and all Chittaphon could feel in that moment was the torment that he’d bestowed upon himself. His arms struggled to support him as he crouched on his hands and legs, and he couldn’t stop himself from digging his hands into the tiled floor, unintentionally cracking it. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think, could barely feel the cuts in his hands from the tiles over the white-hot flashes running through him. And then the wings broke through.

They grew with a speed unmatched by anything else; they broke through his skin, sending blood across the floors in twin arcs, two foreboding skeletal wings rising above his prone form. The feathers grew in quickly, black with flecks of white at the tips of the wings on top and a pure white on the underside. As beautiful as they looked, the streaks of darkening crimson blood was a reminder of how gruesome the process was. The gasps and sobs coming from Chittaphon were an indication that the effects of growing the wings had exhausted him beyond measure. His throat ached, vocal chords spent from the initial screaming of his misery. His back burned, the skin around the wings peeling and raw. It was immeasurable, impossible to describe how he felt.

They were right. He regretted this more than anything he had ever done as a human.


End file.
